Resident Evil: Coen Chronicles
by J-mo1992
Summary: After being pronounced dead, in an attempt to get the military off his back, Billy is haunted by a grim life of bounty hunting, and vigilante justice. However, one things leads to the next, and soon, he is all alone and trapped by an unknown enemy...
1. The Hunter

**Resident Evil: Coen Chronicles**

**By: J-mo1992**

**(Prolouge)**

Billy Coen had been in hiding since 1998. He was an Ex-Marine, who was supposed to be, and assumed to be dead. According to the authorities, he had killed twenty-three people. Truth is, the twenty-three people were his marine squadron, and were ordered to mercilessly slaughter an entire village of innocents. Coen, seeing the wrong in this order, tried to stop his fellow marines. However, he was ultimately forced to kill them, single-handedly.

After a few years, he had been put on death row, and was being escorted by a convoy of police when they were attacked by zombies. He escaped to a crashed train, where he met S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team Agent Rebecca Chambers, along with a slew of ghastly beasts in the result of superhuman experimenting.

They managed to fight their way through, escaping the mansion, and the laboratory, and Rebecca told him that she would pronounce him dead when she reported back to head quarters. Since then, Billy had lived in peace in a small town a few miles from the Arklay Mountains. Well, "peace" may not be the correct term for how he was living.

* * *

**(Chapter 1)**

Billy waited amongst the limbs of a tree. He held him knife in his right hand. He knew they were coming. He could smell the rotten flesh on the wind. It was a possible contender for the most terrible, rancid smell in the world. He tried not to breath through his nose, but when he opened his mouth, the bitter taste clenched to his tongue, and made him gag.

He tried desperately to shake it away from him. He needed to focus. He had, many a times, been attacked by Cerberuses. They were fast, vicious, and traveled in groups of two to five. Since Umbrella had had the outbreak, monsters roamed the Arklay Forest freely. Nobody ever entered the forest, but constantly, town among the out skirts were attacked by zombies, and hunters, and Cerberuses.

He had tried to settle down and have a normal life, but Billy could not stand the slow times. Fighting was what he had always enjoyed. As a kid, he would fight people 3 grades over him, just for fun. Unprovoked violence had always been his thing, as a kid.

Billy snapped back into the current times. He again, tried to focus, but the smell of rot mixed with the anticipation of action kept him on edge.

Nowadays, Billy killed monsters for protection of his village, and money, but mainly for sport. Many people had jumped on the opportunity for easy cash. The bounty hunter business had thrived a few years ago. Many skilled marksmen could drop a deer from 200 yards away, or more, but they underestimated the mutated Dobermans. One shot to the chest could not down it. They were infected with the T Virus, which gives unconditional life to the cerebellum.

The Cerebellum is the part of the brain that controls involuntary actions, such as breathing, and pumping blood. The only ways to kill an infected monster of Arklay, was to destroy the cerebellum, or to sever the spinal chord. This was very different than deer hunting.

Eventually, the bounty hunter population died down from around 150 to around 15. Many towns paid a lot for a zombie head, because the protection was high in demand. Billy needed the money. This was what he was good at, and used to, but sometimes, like now, it became tedious.

Billy sat there, and started playing with his knife. He knew it was about time to use it. The horrid smell had intensified. All of a sudden, a pack of three Cerberus strode out from behind a nearby tree. They looked around for something. A meal was all they cared about. Infected organisms did not care to interact, or for breeding, or bathing. Food was the only priority on a mutant's mind. That's what made them so ruthless, and murderous.

The Cerberuses were some of the most terribly gruesome things one could ever come across. One had a large part of it's face ripped off. The infected and decayed skin was a crusty yellow and red. Another had tears in each of it's legs. Most of the muscle was gone, probably due to chewing on it. It made you question how they were so agile without any muscle to use.

The third was the most ghastly. Apparently, this one had died in a fire-related incident. All of the skin was charred, and the skin was ripped around the eyes. He seemed to jeer about with a sense of taunting. His side was ripped open, where he had become a meal until he resurrected. A few rips, and pieces of stone were seen inside.

Billy clenched his knife in a downward-stab position. He waited for the opportune moment to jump. As soon as the pack prowled underneath of him, he jumped down from the tree. As soon as he did that, all three looked up. He sunk the knife into the back of one of them. He had missed the spine, though, so the Cerberus just growled demonically. Before the others had a chance to lunge at him, he ripped out the knife, and flung it at another. It hit the second in the neck. It stumbled backwards, and lost it's balance. It fell, but was up in a heartbeat.

At this moment, Billy felt screwed. He was supposed to have killed the first one with the drop-stab, but, he had missed. Billy reached for the sidearm in his pocket. It was a military issue handgun. He quickly whipped it up, and shot at the third Cerberus. It hit in the front of the skull, and the dog fell with a yelp. It thrashed around for a few seconds and stopped. Billy was covered in the thick, saucy blood. It smelled as bad as the dogs, if not worse, and tasted gut-wrenching.

The other two Cerberuses were already up and charging. Billy fired a round into the front knee of one, and it tumbled down. The other leapt forward in an attempt to bite Billy's face. Once a Cerberus latched on, it would not let go, even if the head was taken from the body. The jaw had to be sawed off, unless the dog let go.

Billy quickly dodged by falling onto his back. As he landed, he lost his breath. However, he still managed to kick the dog in the bottom of the jaw as it sailed over. He hear a sickening crunch, and the Doberman landed, and did not get up.

He tried to scramble to his feet, but the blow to his lungs kept him writhing on the ground. He had had the wind knocked out of him. The last Cerberus, however, was charging with some difficulty towards where Billy lay. Gasping for air, he pointed the gun at the beast, and shot the remaining rounds into the dog's face. It stumbled, but kept running a few more steps, until it tumbled down.

Billy lay there. That was the closest he had been, yet, to his life's end. He'd fought many things, but that was the first time something had gone wrong. Eventually, he got up. He spat, trying to get the simplified blood out of his mouth. He was infected, and he knew it. He had been for several years, but he hadn't died yet, so the virus had not taken effect. He was somewhat immune to it, so the effects were also shielded by that.

He found his knife in the chest of one of them. He sheathed it, and fished out a handsaw from his pack. He started to cut off the heads of the beasts; proof that he had killed them. As he cut, more rancid blood spilled out onto him. He shuddered as he felt it's warmth run onto his hands.

Finally, he was finished. With the heads tied together by the jaws, he started to walk towards the town for his pay, and his shower.


	2. Trouble Makers

**(Chapter 2)**

Billy walked into the small town, trailing the heads, and a powerful stench along with them. He passed a group of teenagers who were busily peering into one of the windows of a shop. Poverty around this town was high, because the Arklay region was so cut off from the rest of the world. Because nobody was willing to travel out to this condemned place, supplies cost a lot more than usual. One of the boys looked over at Billy, and glared at the heads. Naturally, Billy waved, and the boy waved back.

He continued to head towards the little police station. Even though there was a police in this town, nobody really cared what another did. The police were usually killed a few day into the force, to prove a point, but also to raid on weapons, and scavenge what little money people could from the officer. The station, however, was also where monster killers could collect their pay.

He turned the street corner, and ran right into the teenagers again. Two of them had knifes, and the other three had little bludgeons . One was wearing a white tattered T-shirt, and grey pants. His hair was a brown mess, both greasy and uncombed. Another had short blonde hair, and a muscular build. They both had the knifes.

The other three looked to be possibly brothers. One was wearing a brown long-sleeved shirt, and green shorts. The second one wore no shirt and had blue jeans on. The last looked to be around 14 years old. The rest were around 17.

The five of them lunged onto Billy and cut the rope connecting the head to Billy's waist. The boy with the tattered t- shirt ran off with the heads, and ran into an alley. The other four started to beat and stab at him.

The Ex Lieutenant shielded his neck and head with his arms. Every stab into his lower torso brought excruciating pain, and Billy swore at them, until he finally managed to kick the short, blonde-haired one. He fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

After that, Billy nearly tore his own knife out of it's holster. He stabbed the younger looking one in the arm. He dropped his bludgeon, and fell on his back, gripping his arm and screaming. He rolled on the ground back and forth to try and rid himself of the pain, somehow. The blood from his arm started to spray onto the streets. When he saw this, he felt lightheaded, and passed out.

Billy saw the two remaining boys lose confidence as he managed to push them away with his arms. They were still trying to beat him. They knew that any normal person would have been dead by now, but Billy rose to his feet, and was greeted by the boys lunging back towards him, clubbing him in the head.

He fell to the ground once more, and tried to regain his consciousness. Billy was out for a second or two, but reopened his eyes, as he felt another stab into his back. Billy yelled once more, as he rolled over, ignoring the pain as he rolled onto his back. The shirtless boy had his knife, and was about to stab him again. Billy pulled his gun, and shot the teenager in the chest. The boy gulped, but dropped without any further noise. The long-sleeved boy with the bludgeon saw this, and took off running.

Billy looked around himself. The first boy with the knife was gone with his heads; his ticket to money. The second was out cold on the floor. Billy took his knife out of his hand. Hopefully, it would help pay for the lost bounty. Another of the boys was passed out on the floor, and the last shot, presumably dead. He retrieved his knife from him. He would have felt pretty sorry for what he had done, but Billy lost his caring attitude long ago, in the military. And besides, they had started it, with unfair odds, too.

He inspected himself. He was cut up, pretty bad. Not to mention the beatings. He checked for breaks, but everything seemed to be in tact. Billy groaned in the pain. He knew it was going to hurt even more, later, however.

He didn't even bother to look for the first boy. Muggings on bounty hunters was common, because of the value of dead monsters. Usually, the aggressor would travel to another town to sell, and then, come back for more.

He should have known better. He usually brought a box, in order to cover up the heads, but he didn't bring it, today, because he was hunting from the trees. He usually, just waited in the bushes, but he wanted to try a new strategy, today.

Mad at himself, and at his carelessness, he headed home. He was very glad of his high tolerance of pain, and brutality. He was born with a sense of "nothing can touch me" attitude. His high build and high stamina, mixed with his military training was the only reason he was alive, right now.

However, he did need to get this wounds cleaned up. Finally, he found his house, and headed inside for a shower, bandages, and a nap.


	3. Wanting Freedom

**(Chapter 3)**

Billy lay, through the night, tossing, and turning on his rugged bed. He rolled back and forth, breathing heavily. Visions of zombies that had attacked him back in the mansion still haunted him. He imagined himself beating against a metal door. A group of 15 or so undead slowly moved after him, menacingly wailing cries of the agony of death.

Coen beat on the door. He was terrified. His empty gun, now a hindrance, was cast aside as he attempted to kick down the door. It didn't budge, but he tried again. This time, however, it gave way, slightly.

With one more powerful kick, the rusty bolts holding the door in place snapped. About to dash toward freedom, Billy felt a soggy hand grab his arm, and then a set of human teeth sink into his bicep. The pain was excruciating. He felt the teeth hit bone, but continue to bite more flesh and muscle off. Grinding his teeth together, Billy snatched his arm away from the thing's teeth, punching the zombie in the jaw as he did so.

Apparently, the ghoul had bitten a piece of tendon, because he couldn't move his arm. The zombie still had hold of his arm, s he fell, pulling the ex-marine with him. Billy fell, horrified, as the multitude fell upon him.

He remembered seeing the walls and the roof as he fell arms pulling, and teeth tearing, each with immense torture. He realized that he was in his own room. The windows were nailed, and the door had been bolted from the outside, somehow, but was now down. There was no town outside. No rural, rundown community. He was being killed in a cabin in the middle of some forsaken woods. Then, as he wished he would die, already, a rotten hand with only 4 fingers grabbed hold of his face, jamming a thumb into his eye. He couldn't even scream when incisors were set into his neck.

All he felt was pain, all over. It burned like fire. It stung like acid. It felt...

He awoke, staring at the ceiling of his room. He felt sick, and was sweaty from every inch of his body. He just lie there, looking at his roof. He was listening, not for anything, but just listening. He knew it was just a dream. He was just listening, for anything to help him to soothe his nerves. He started to hum. He felt somewhat feminine, being 6'2", 172 lbs, and humming to himself in bed, but he shrugged it off. He needed some way to feel better.

Eventually, he nodded back off to sleep, and awoke again in the morning. He was still tired, like everyone, always, in the Arklay. He had to go find more bounty, however. His pantry was empty, and he was getting sick of blueberries, which were native to this area.

He rubbed his eyes, digging out some eye-crusts, and sat up. His back hurt. His legs did, too. And arms, and everywhere, really. He slowly rose to his feet and looked in his little hand-made nightstand drawer. He pulled out a little medicine container and shook it. They were pain-killers, and he had only one left; not even a full dose. He downed it, anyways. It would take about an hour to kick in, but he needed to get started soon.

It was already dawn. Undead did not have a preference between night and day, but they hunted by sight, so the darkness could be used to Billy's advantage. He walked into his bathroom. As there was no indoor plumbing, he rinsed his face in a bucket, to help wake up. He didn't have the resources to eat breakfast, so he walked out of the room, just as hungry as last night. He clutched his stomach which ached and groaned.

The ex-Lieutenant reloaded his gun as he locked his door behind him. He realized he was down to his last box of ammo and cursed to himself. He grimaced; it hurt even to talk. He slipped the box back into his pocket, and continued on towards the main part of town. Quietly, everyone was already at their business. Somebody was selling rice he had grown, in small sacks. Coen approached him.

"Excuse me, sir. Would you happen to have any spare sacks you might be willing to spare?" Billy asked, in a raspy voice. Seeing a chance for possible cash, the man offered one in exchange for a $20. _This is outrageous!_ Billy thought. _Nobody has that kinda money around here._ Billy slowly reached for his pistol, and brought it to the man's gut. Seeing the weapon pressed against his stomach, the man cried out "Fine! I'm sorry, just take it. Here!" He handed the empty sack from his back pocket to Billy, and ran off, rather swiftly.

He felt bad, as he tied the sack around his waist, and put the pistol in his jacket pocket. Billy knew that that man needed to survive just as bad as the next guy. However, so did he, and he was not about to get robbed like yesterday. Two middle-aged women hurried by, averting their gazes. They were both carrying water from the well, and had obviously seen his robbery. He wanted to let them know that he was not another low-life scum stealing from poor rice-sellers. He wanted to redeem his dignity be talking to them about how he was actually protecting the town from undead by bounty hunting. He wanted to talk to them, and just talk.

In most Arklay towns, however, nobody could be trusted. Those women would no doubtedly gut him with a fork, and take his stuff, just as fast as they'd eat a free fried chicken. He continued, and reached the edge of the village without being bothered. He stood, gazing into the trees. He really wished he could have a nice city life, in the modern world. He wished he wasn't hiding in a rundown old village that everyone was to frightened to enter. He wished that these horrendous waves of undead would stop, so civilization would be brave enough to enter and freshen up this place.

But then he'd have to leave, and hide some more...

With a dissatisfied grunt, he strode into the forest, ready to do his job.


	4. Crimson Head

**(Chapter 4)**

Billy stepped into the forest. Like always, it was dead-silent. Not a bird chirped in the trees. The wind did not stir in the least. Most of the trees in the Arklay were evergreen, so leaves did not fall. The only thing that seemed to even be alive was Billy himself. It was ominous, eerie, and somewhat depressing.

He decided, today, to hunt on foot. Yesterday's "Tarzan jump" ordeal did not really work too well, and he didn't want to risk an injury. He moved slowly and silently, listening for the movement of an undead. His eyes peered into the somewhat dark forest, searching for the terrifying eyes of the infected. He sniffed the air, hoping to catch a waft of rotten stench in the air.

Billy moved on, sliding gracefully among the forest bottom. He passed trees and bushes, and kept searching for his prey. He came upon a bloodstained tree. It was covered in the shiny red liquid, and Billy grinned to himself. This was a sign of zombies. Whether it had just tripped onto the trunk, or if it had eaten something, or somebody, it was definitely a sign of action. Billy looked around the trunk to find another drop of blood. Not but three feet was another small pool of blood. Three of four feet from that was another little droplet. Billy followed this, listening for wet footsteps, or the moaning of undead humans. He checked around trees quickly, but silently. If he was attacked, and crippled out in this forestry, nobody would even attempt to get him. Way out here, health or death were your only two options. It was extremely risky business, but he knew he had to risk everything in order to eat.

Billy followed the trail of blood for about a quarter mile, when he stumbled across a snuffed fire. He quickly spun around, checking the area for any more signs of life. This was a device used commonly by zombie hunters. Because undead have no instinct or thought except to find food, they are not afraid of fire. They seem to be drawn to it, even. Hunters will light a fire, and usually wait around to take out anything that comes toward the fire. Coen spun, looking for the Zombie Hunter, if he was still here. Something red shined in his eye. Immediately, he dove to his right as a shotgun slug smacked the ground next to him. He was quickly on his feet again. "Don't shoot! I'm human, where are you!?" He yelled. He looked around, and heard some one swear violently.

"Sorry, man. I didn't realize... My bad..." Somebody jumped out of a tree and landed behind him. Billy turned to face him. The man wore blue jeans, and a hunting-camouflage hooded sweater. His hands were bloody, and his shotgun was still smoking. On the end was a laser pointer, which Billy supposed caused the red flash. "Shoot, man, I thought you were game."

Billy spat in some bushes off a ways. "Almost polished me off. Name's Billy Coen," he said, grimly. "Been out here for the last hour, and haven't seen even one of the..." he swore, and saw the blood on the man's hands. "Was that you on the tree over there?" The man looked at where Billy pointed.

"Yeah, I killed one of 'em, and smeared 'em on the tree to lead some more o'er here. I'm Freddy Moore, by the way. Did they take the body?" he asked.

"I didn't see anything," Billy replied. "They must be near, then." He gazed into the trees. They were in a clearing, but around it was thick vegetation. All of a sudden, a zombie, arms caked with blood, dashed out from next to them. It's skin was slightly reddish, as if sunburned, and inch long nails protruded from his fingers. Freddy turned to shoot at it, but was clawed in the neck. He fell to the ground, on his back, and gasped for air.

The creature dove for him, with impressive agility and speed. However, he was met with a roundhouse kick to the side of the head from Billy, and was flung 4 feet to the side. Freddie clutched his throat, chocking on blood. The monster pulled himself up, and charged at Coen, who took out his knife. The monster leaped at Billy, but was stabbed in the shoulder upon impact. It growled demoniacally, and tried to shred Billy's chest. It succeeded in making 4 small, parallel scratches. Groaning, Billy shoved the zombie off, retracting the knife from it, as they rolled. Now, Billy was on top, and dodged a quick slash at the face.

It reached for Billy's neck, but had a hand sliced to the bone, instead. It pulled it back, and Coen saw his chance to stab at the eye. It sunk into the blue eye like butter, and the whole zombie shuddered as the brain was pierced. It stopped and lay on the ground. Billy's chest stung, as the wound was infected, but he shrugged and ran toward Freddie who was still struggling to breathe. Short choking breaths were all he could gather, as he arched his back and writhed in torment.

"Freddy..." Billy stared at him. His eyes darted back and forth. The man grabbed for Billy, and coughed blood as he tried to say something. Billy knew what he wanted. He drew his pistol, and pressed his against the man's forehead. Freddy jolted as the shot entered, cracking the skull and left a large mess. Freddy's eyes were shut, still flinching, though dead. Billy closed his eyes, and wished for the apartment he had back in the modern world. He wanted his soft bed and to see his dog again, instead of this horrendous mess.

Eventually, he managed to stand, and inspected the monster. It looked like a normal zombie, except for the claws, and the red skin. He wiped at his chest, and saw that the blood was coagulating rather quickly. Wondering why this was, Billy pulled the knife out of the zombie's eye socket. He then proceeded to cut the head off of the monster, and stuffed it in the sack.

The sack idea was a good idea, in hiding the bounty from possible thieves. However, the head was bleeding, and leaving a large red spot in the bottom. He figured he could probably hide just that spot, however.

He left the body where it lie, and returned to Freddy. He grimly looked upon the sight, and bent down toward it. He began to cut around the neck. It was inhumane, he knew, and he couldn't believe he was severing the head of the only acquaintance he'd met in the last few years. However, he needed the money, badly. He circled the skin around the fragmented head, slicing the skin to the bone. Blood was all over his hands and boots, and finally, he snapped the neck, and put the remains of the head into the sack. He felt dirty and low for what he was about to do, but he shrugged it off.

After wiping his hands on the dirt, he continued toward home.


	5. Seven Bucks, and A Need For Sis

**(Chapter 6)**

Billy awoke the next morning at a knock on the door. He had slept extremely well, last night, and bolted upright, almost immediately. The knock continued, and he screamed for it to wait a minute. He rushed into the bathroom, and changed back into his clothes. They were dry, now. He only put on his pants before opening the door.

"Hello?" he asked through the crack. A large man in a dirty business suit and with a shotgun across his back peered in. Billy only had the door open a crack, and his foot was keeping it from opening it any further. The man checked behind his back before leaning into the door to try and open it. It didn't budge, so he took a step back.

"May I come in?" he asked, staring at the shirtless man through the opening.

"No," Billy answered promptly. "What do you want?" He looked over the man. He seemed to be nervous, on edge, but did not appear to mean conflict. Still, though, as an ex-marine, Billy wanted to take no risks. The man tried to open the door again.

"Please. I have personal information for you. Are you Ex-Lieutenant Billy Coen?" The man checked over his shoulder again. Billy's eyes widened; this was a government official coming to bring him in! They probably found out he was still alive, and the warrant fr his arrest, and execution was still valid, then.

"No. My name's Jerald Luther," Billy quickly lied. "Now get the heck off my front porch!" He slammed the door, and locked it. Hopefully the man would leave.

"Mr. Coen, I'm not here to cause trouble. Your name's been cleared." He stood facing the open door for a few moments more. The door reopened slowly, only a crack again. Billy's eyes were slightly widened as he heard this, and he waited for the man to continue. "My name is Dale Jemmings. May I come in, now, Mr. Coen?" he asked, checking over his shoulder again. Apparently he knew about the terrible situation these villages were in...

Slowly, Coen released his foot from the door, and it swung open. Dale walked in, and looked around, probably feeling sorry for Billy having to live here. "As I was saying, a couple weeks ago, you were-"

"Why?" Billy broke in. He leaned on a wall, motioning for the man to sit, which he did. Billy already had his firearm in the back of his pants, and, by having the other man sit, it would give him the upper-hand, if this was a scam to kill him. He was watching the man's hands. If they went to his gun, the man would have to stand up to take it off, but would already be shot. Coen liked to take chances, but he also liked to have an upper hand.

"I was about to get to that." The man said, somewhat harshly. "I'm with the Special Tactics And Rescue Squadron."

"S.T.A.R.S... Yes, I know your organization." Billy affirmed.

"Yes, it would seem as if you do." He shifted, looking around the place. A bed, a small cabinet and a nightstand, all shabbily made, were the only things in his room. He looked back at Billy, who nervously looked at where the man had. He reached for inside his suit's jacket's pocket.

Billy whipped out his pistol and pointed it at him. "Hold on, there bubba." He had moved with the speed of lightning, causing the other man to freeze his hand where it was, just outside the pocket. Slowly, he brought his hand back to his side, and with the other, opened his jacket, showing Billy the inside.

Billy cautiously edged toward the man. He was still unsure of this whole deal. As he reached his hand into the jacket pocket, Billy kept watching the man's eyes; he was ready for any movement the man could make, right now. Like snake charmers, looking into eyes, could easily prepare you for attack, and where the attack was going to be.

Billy reached into the pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He unfolded it, and read aloud, "Warrant for arrest. Billy Coen. Void, 14 November 2003, signed by Rebecca Chambers..." he lowered his gun, and looked at the man, who smiled, now.

"Do we have and understanding, or must I still be at gunpoint?" He chuckled.

Billy stuffed his gun into the back of his pants again. "Sorry about that. In the Arklay, you never know what people will do to get their hands on anything you have." The man said not to worry about it, so Billy excused himself to the bathroom, and put the rest of his clothes on. As he came back in, "When can we leave?" He asked.

"As soon as you're willing."

"We could have left 4 years ago, in that case." Billy made a grim smile. "Rebecca... How is she?"

The man looked at him. "She's been promoted at breakneck speeds. After she left the whole complex that I believe you two were at, she found yet another monster infested mansion to play in. There, she met Alpha team, and they went through that bitter mess...When she arrived back, being the only Bravo member to survive, she was promoted. Not to mention hr helping Chris Redfield from Alpha on many occasions."

"What about my belongings, and money?" Billy questioned.

"Most likely gone. When you were presumed dead, your stuff was probably given out to family and friends. How much do you have on you?" He looked at the heavily built man.

"Seven bucks." Billy frowned. "We should get going. I want to see my sister again. She might be able to help me."

The man led the way toward the forest. Without so much as even the slightest attack from zombies, they made it to a clearing in about an hour. Jemmings pulled out a walkie talkie with a large antennae. Satellite, no doubt.

"Manning, this is Jemmings, from Echo Team. I have located and retrieved the subject. Need pickup, same spot as the drop off." He boomed into it. After 5 minutes or so, a small military helicopter was heard, and circled above them. Eventually, it landed, and they both boarded. The pilot didn't even look at Billy, but simply took off as soon as he got in.

Silently, Billy watched the ground as they took off, an flew home. Within hours, he was back at the S.T.A.R.S. base. He stepped out of the helicopter, thanking the pilot on his way out. As he stepped out into the sunshine, he was greeted by the warming stare of a brown-haired young girl. Her name tag read "Chambers".


	6. A Knock at the Door

**(Chapter 6)**

Billy awoke the next morning at a knock on the door. He had slept extremely well, last night, and bolted upright, almost immediately. The knock continued, and he screamed for it to wait a minute. He rushed into the bathroom, and changed back into his clothes. They were dry, now. He only put on his pants before opening the door.

"Hello?" he asked through the crack. A large man in a dirty business suit and with a shotgun across his back peered in. Billy only had the door open a crack, and his foot was keeping it from opening it any further. The man checked behind his back before leaning into the door to try and open it. It didn't budge, so he took a step back.

"May I come in?" he asked, staring at the shirtless man through the opening.

"No," Billy answered promptly. "What do you want?" He looked over the man. He seemed to be nervous, on edge, but did not appear to mean conflict. Still, though, as an ex-marine, Billy wanted to take no risks. The man tried to open the door again.

"Please. I have personal information for you. Are you Ex-Lieutenant Billy Coen?" The man checked over his shoulder again. Billy's eyes widened; this was a government official coming to bring him in! They probably found out he was still alive, and the warrant fr his arrest, and execution was still valid, then.

"No. My name's Jerald Luther," Billy quickly lied. "Now get the heck off my front porch!" He slammed the door, and locked it. Hopefully the man would leave.

"Mr. Coen, I'm not here to cause trouble. Your name's been cleared." He stood facing the open door for a few moments more. The door reopened slowly, only a crack again. Billy's eyes were slightly widened as he heard this, and he waited for the man to continue. "My name is Dale Jemmings. May I come in, now, Mr. Coen?" he asked, checking over his shoulder again. Apparently he knew about the terrible situation these villages were in...

Slowly, Coen released his foot from the door, and it swung open. Dale walked in, and looked around, probably feeling sorry for Billy having to live here. "As I was saying, a couple weeks ago, you were-"

"Why?" Billy broke in. He leaned on a wall, motioning for the man to sit, which he did. Billy already had his firearm in the back of his pants, and, by having the other man sit, it would give him the upper-hand, if this was a scam to kill him. He was watching the man's hands. If they went to his gun, the man would have to stand up to take it off, but would already be shot. Coen liked to take chances, but he also liked to have an upper hand.

"I was about to get to that." The man said, somewhat harshly. "I'm with the Special Tactics And Rescue Squadron."

"S.T.A.R.S... Yes, I know your organization." Billy affirmed.

"Yes, it would seem as if you do." He shifted, looking around the place. A bed, a small cabinet and a nightstand, all shabbily made, were the only things in his room. He looked back at Billy, who nervously looked at where the man had. He reached for inside his suit's jacket's pocket.

Billy whipped out his pistol and pointed it at him. "Hold on, there bubba." He had moved with the speed of lightning, causing the other man to freeze his hand where it was, just outside the pocket. Slowly, he brought his hand back to his side, and with the other, opened his jacket, showing Billy the inside.

Billy cautiously edged toward the man. He was still unsure of this whole deal. As he reached his hand into the jacket pocket, Billy kept watching the man's eyes; he was ready for any movement the man could make, right now. Like snake charmers, looking into eyes, could easily prepare you for attack, and where the attack was going to be.

Billy reached into the pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He unfolded it, and read aloud, "Warrant for arrest. Billy Coen. Void, 14 November 2003, signed by Rebecca Chambers..." he lowered his gun, and looked at the man, who smiled, now.

"Do we have and understanding, or must I still be at gunpoint?" He chuckled.

Billy stuffed his gun into the back of his pants again. "Sorry about that. In the Arklay, you never know what people will do to get their hands on anything you have." The man said not to worry about it, so Billy excused himself to the bathroom, and put the rest of his clothes on. As he came back in, "When can we leave?" He asked.

"As soon as you're willing."

"We could have left 4 years ago, in that case." Billy made a grim smile. "Rebecca... How is she?"

The man looked at him. "She's been promoted at breakneck speeds. After she left the whole complex that I believe you two were at, she found yet another monster infested mansion to play in. There, she met Alpha team, and they went through that bitter mess...When she arrived back, being the only Bravo member to survive, she was promoted. Not to mention hr helping Chris Redfield from Alpha on many occasions."

"What about my belongings, and money?" Billy questioned.

"Most likely gone. When you were presumed dead, your stuff was probably given out to family and friends. How much do you have on you?" He looked at the heavily built man.

"Seven bucks." Billy frowned. "We should get going. I want to see my sister again. She might be able to help me."

The man led the way toward the forest. Without so much as even the slightest attack from zombies, they made it to a clearing in about an hour. Jemmings pulled out a walkie talkie with a large antennae. Satellite, no doubt.

"Manning, this is Jemmings, from Echo Team. I have located and retrieved the subject. Need pickup, same spot as the drop off." He boomed into it. After 5 minutes or so, a small military helicopter was heard, and circled above them. Eventually, it landed, and they both boarded. The pilot didn't even look at Billy, but simply took off as soon as he got in.

Silently, Billy watched the ground as they took off, an flew home. Within hours, he was back at the S.T.A.R.S. base. He stepped out of the helicopter, thanking the pilot on his way out. As he stepped out into the sunshine, he was greeted by the warming stare of a brown-haired young girl. Her name tag read "Chambers".


	7. Rebecca Chambers

**(Chapter 7)**

Rebecca stared, and smiled at him. They hadn't seen each other in years. Slowely, Billy walked towards her, and they shook hands. He was half expecting a large hug, for they had quite taken to each other back in the mansion. However, she had probably moved on by now, and gotten married. He couldn't blame her; she can't hold onto somebody who she hadn't seen for 4 years.

"How was your vacation?" She asked.

"Great! I stayed in a 5-star hotel, made lots of friends, and ate at some of the best resturaunts around..." He answered, sarcastically. "Ah, what a shame to have to come back to the real world." He added, dryly.

She chuckled. Her laugh, however, seemed older than what a girl her age's laugh should sound like. It sounded sad, as if she had been through many hard times. Then he remembered that she had. Not one, but two terrifying encounters with the undead. At 18, not to mention.

She welcomed him inside her office (now being a higher rank, she had her own office), and offered him some chicken she had made. He wanted to refuse, not being one to rely on others, but his hunger took over. He tore into it, messily licking the bones dry. Rebecca silently watched as he finished the ispection of each bone, and set the plate aside. He blushed silently at this terrible display of manners. "Thank you." he mumbled, sheepishly.

"You're very welcome, Mr. Coen." She blinked, watching him with curiosity. He was hardly human anymore. His hair was long, and unkept. He had a slight beard that was brown and prickly. "I'm not sure if I did the right thing, clearing your name, and bringing you back into th real world." She saw his puzzled, and offened look and immeadiatly realized the mistake of her words. "I'm sorry... That's not what I meant," She apologized.

"What I meant, is that it's going to be hard to start over. Everything you ever owned, here, is gone. The only possesions you own are the clothes on your back, and whatever's in your pockets."

"Seven bucks..." Billy said, yet again. "That's exactly what Dale said."

"Mmm hmm..." She nodded her head. "I have here a hundred dollars for you, that I want you to have." She held it out for him to take. Billy stood up, and reached out. Halfway there, however, he dropped his hand to his side.

"I'm sure I'll be able to get along fine. I started in this world with nothing... You've done enough for me already..."He stared at the ground. He realized that his clothes were still blood-stained.

She stepped up towards him, slowely. "Please, Billy..." She was still holding it toward him. "What if I had you do something for me? It would be like pay, then..."

Billy looked up. "What do you mean?"

She shushed him, and set the money on the table, as she stepped closer to him. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, and pushed a button on a stero behind him. Slow dance music started to play, and they both started to dance. She closed her eyes as they gently rocked back and forth, holding each other.

Billy was taken aback. He did not expect this from her, who he hadn't seen in 4 years. He wasn't complaining, however. He held her tight, as they danced, smiling. He remembered back in the mansion when they had fought side-by-side, but this was a whole new side of her.

Eventually the music slowed, and stopped. They kept dancing a few moments after, and finally, they stopped. He looked up, into her eyes, and slowely and gently moved in. Their lips touched, and they began to kiss, slowly, enjoying it, both of them. After a few moments, she pulled back, and lay her head on his chest. "Best money I've ever spent..." She finally let go of him, and straightened her dress. "I'm sorry..." she said again. "I shouldn't have done... I'm sure you don't... Not after all these yea-"

She was inturrupted as Billy kissed her again as he held her fragile body. He couldn't believe the welcoming he had gotten! Eventually, Rebecca broke the kiss again. "Billy, we can't..." She said with remorse. Billy knew she was right, but he couldn't help himself. She was so beautiful.

They both managed to calm their beating hearts, and separated. Billy took the money off of the table. "Thanks, Rebecca. For everything." She waved goodbye, and watched as he left her office. She wished she had never teased herself...

Billy, heart sunk, walked away from the S.T.A.R.S. building. He had tucked the $100 in his back pocket, with the seven, and headed into town, to find his sister's apartment. Oh, how he had enjoyed that, just a few moments before.

* * *

**Okay, I'm going to start commenting. I always have liked getting the authors' oppinions on their work... **

**Anyway, I never even planned for this to be a romance story, nor even have romance in it. Somehow, though, love fuond it's place in my story. I feel somewhat girly for this part, but whatever... **

**Thanks a lot to all the readers who have commented, and thank also to those who only read. However, I do LOVE getting comments, so please, feel free. **

**And for the guys who are like "Bleh! Where are the killing sprees!?!" I'm sorry. This scene wasn't even supposed to happen, yet it did. Hard-core Resident Evil action should resume in another chapter or two. Bear with me:-)**


	8. Reunion With Sister

**(Chapter 8)**

Billy was finally back to the cold, hard streets of the real world. He shivered, somewhat. It was getting cold, and he was dressed only in a light jacket. He was in the middle of Raccoon City, home of several million people, and the S.T.A.R.S. base. He walked along the sidewalks, cautiously avoiding the crowds.

He finally managed to find a clothes shop, and entered it with haste. He needed to buy a proper coat for this town, which was a lot colder than the Arklay Mountains. Though only a little ways south of Raccoon city, the Arklay region was considerably warmer. Billy looked around the shelves for a cheap coat. He picked up a decent looking leather coat, and read the price tag. Eyes widened, he hurriedly put the jacket down.

He continued his search, looking through many expensive coats, and jackets, until he found one he liked. It was a brown trench coat, for only $35. Billy tried it on, admiring the liner inside. It was very warm, and comfortable, at that. He had never really been a fan of trench coats, but now that he actually saw one on himself, he didn't mind it at all.

Folding the coat across his arm, he walked up to the counter. A middle-aged woman with brown hair and rosy cheeks welcomed him with a smile. She took the coat, and rung it up.

"Thirty-six, seventy-two." She told him.

"Here." He handed her the bill, and and took the coat. The woman was about to hand him the money, when she apparently noticed his pants and boots being covered in blood.

"Um, sir..." She asked, as he looked up. "Excuse me for asking, but what were you doing? You're covered in blood..." She looked horrified.

"Good assumption, Einst-..." He looked at his pants. They were a mess. "I, uh... I work with pigs. A slaughter-house... You know..." He lied. The lady was apparently convinced, because she smiled once more, and handed him his change, telling him to have a nice night.

Billy walked out, happily wearing the trench coat. He was a lot warmer, now, and continued on, toward the Parkway neighborhood. After twenty minutes' time, he reached a nice, little community with small oaks surrounding the gate. He followed the roads until he reached a brown house with a white door. _7306,_ he thought. _I really hope she still lives here. _

Billy stepped to the door, and knocked gently. Two lights were on in the living room, and Billy waited for an answer. After there was none, he knocked again. This time, however, a young woman, in her early twenties stepped out. "May I help you, sir?" She asked.

"I'm sorry to bother you. Is there a Gracie Gladium living here? She's my sister, and I'd like to see her again." He eagerly waited, wondering why this woman was in his sister's house. Probably visiting.

"Excuse me?" The woman asked.

"The woman who lives here. Gracie. She's my sister. Could I speak with her, please?" He was growing eager. He was very excited to see his sister. It was 8 years ago when he had last seen her.

"I'm sorry, sir. I just bought this house, a month ago." She yawned. "Do you mean the lady that used to live here? Short? Slim? Brown hair?" She asked.

"Yes, ma'am. do you know where she lives now?" Billy asked. He was willing to walk as far as he needed to, to get to her.

"I'm sorry. She's..." The lady cut off. She looked away from Billy. "... Dead..."

Billy's heart stopped. Dead? He surely hadn't heard her correctly. She wasn't a day over 40, and was perfectly healthy. He didn't believe it. His eyes filled with tears, and his throat started to quake. "Guh... What?" He stammered.

"She's dead. I'm sorry. Did you say she was your sister?" The lady watched, sadly, as Billy sat on the front steps and ran his hands through his hair. He was crying, silently, but bitterly. The drops landed on his pants, and wet them.

"H-how?" He quivered. He still could not believe it. He sniffed, feeling the cold, bitter wind enter his chest.

"She... Committed suicide a few months ago. She was apparently weighed down by the loss of her brother, and then went through a divorce." The woman kneeled next to Billy, and put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry for you..." Her voice trailed off. "Excuse me asking, but the newspaper said her only brother was dead, but you claimed to be hers, also. Is there a possibility it's not the right woman?"

Billy didn't hear her. His ears had popped, and he was sobbing harshly into his sleeve. If only he'd been a few months earlier, he could've...

He jumped up, suddenly, pushing the small woman away. He tore off, running down the street, dashing as fast as he could away from the place. He didn't even know where he was running. He just ran as fast as his legs would carry him. He came to a cross section, and just rushed through, not caring about the cars, as they swerved and screeched around him. Through all four lanes, he dashed right through.

He kept running until he came to a small field, some sort of park. His legs gave out on him, and he fell and rolled onto the grass. His lungs were burning from running, and freezing from the rapid inhale of the cold air. He shivered from both the crying and the bitter chill that surrounded him. He was on his stomach, sobbing into the dirt and grass. He couldn't stand up, even if he wanted to. He was just laying there.

His sister and him had been each other's crutch during hard times. When they were victims of divorce as little kids, they watched out for each other under custody of their constantly drunken mother. When they grew up, Billy joined the Marines, while Gracie stayed, and became a Journalist. Every other day, they would write back and forth, until the day when Billy killed the 23 other Marines. He hadn't seen her, since.

And he never would, again...

* * *

**Okay, another slow, but meaningful chapter. Billy has no more connections with the world, with the exception of Rebecca. Neither him nor I know what he's going to do...**


	9. Oversleeping

**Chapter 9**

He awoke, suddenly, at the feeling of something rubbing on his backside. With fast as lightning reflexes, he whipped around, and smacked the hand of a homeless man, who was trying to take his wallet. Half asleep, still, Billy tried to recognize what had happened, and what he had hit. Seeing that he had been caught, the homeless man decided to run. Quickly, he was off, to somewhere, leaving Billy still laying next to the now silent highway.

It was now early morning. Coen rubbed his eyes, and stood, clumsily. He felt overhung, and looked around. _This isn't the life for me..._ He thought. After 12 years in the U.S. Marine Corps, and 5 years killing undead, civilian life really didn't seem taht appealing.

The sun was just starting to rise. Billy looked at himself. He knew he couldn't just sit around constantly, moping, and getting pickpocketed by hobos. He started walking around, without a specific destination. He was doing some serious planning. He considered going back into the military, but his name was probably mud, even with the reinstation.

_Maybe I could go back,_ he pondered. _Back to the life in the forest..._

He pushed the thought from his head. _There's no way I could ever go back. That was... a nightmare..._ He thought back to every bite, and scratch, and beating he had received in the Arklay...

He kept walking. He noticed how empty the park was. _Odd..._ He wondered why there was nobody, on such a fine morning at this. No early saturday joggers... No old women feeding squirrels...

He was still deep in thought, when he finally spied somebody; a young man in his mid-twenties, wearing a grey button-up shirt, and some black-denim jeans. Billy nodded a greeting, and the man nodded back. As they were about to pass, the man stopped Billy, and mumbled something to him.

"I'm sorry?" Billy asked, confused as to what he had said. The man with the grey shirt pointed to something, at the other side of the park, and Billy turned to see what it was. There was nothing. A small tree, and a trashcan on the side of the path, but nothing out of the ordinar- "GAH!" Billy grunted, as something sharp was stuck into his back. Not sharp, like a knife, but like a sort of needle.

The ex-lieutenant turned, and clobbered the man in the side of the cheek. The stranger sank, but was up again with a cudgel that he had in his sleeve. He thwarted Billy in the stomach, and pushed him over. By now, whatever was in the needle was taking hold. Billy's mind was clearing, and his fists grew weaker.

Still, he stood back up, and swung a dizzy punch at the stranger, who easily side-stepped. Billy noticed that his attacker was bleeding from the lip, where he had been socked. Taking another blow to the back of the head, Coen fell into a heap, and layed there, still trying to fight.

Shaking violently, his mind slipped out of reality, and he cursed his attacker before his mind went blank.

* * *

Okay guys, I want to apologize, sincerely. I lost all motivation, for God-only-knows how long. I dug myself into a hole, and couldn't get out. Oops... BUT, I had a great idea, and things are about to get a lot more interesting, I promise. You guys WILL be rewarded for the wait. :-)

Think about Billy's "resistance" to the virus...


	10. Punctures, and Podiums

**Chapter 10**

Billy awoke. He was in a bright, white room, without a detail about it. No doors... no windows... Just a blank, white room. Billy was laying on the ground, in the center of the room, so he pushed himself up, and sat, staring. His pistol had been taken, but his knife remained in it's sheath.

He stood, shakily, and rubbed his fingers through his hair. He had a large gouge on the top, which he flinched, when his fingers met it. There was also a puncture wound in the back of his right arm, where he had been injected with something. He inspected it, to see that the area around the puncture had a slight purple hue to it. He wondered what it was, and started to panic.

_They, whoever they are, put something in me..._ He thought, stating the obvious.

Out of nowhere, a flap opened in the bottom of one of the walls, and a tray of mashed potatoes with gravy, and meatloaf were pushed through. The flap seemed to just be a simple piece of plastic, and flipped back and forth as a dogie-door would. Billy dove for it, in an attempt to see through, and get an idea of what was going on.

"Hey!" He shouted, as he touched the flap. As he did so, his hand shot back, with a tremendous, unseen jolt, and the flap sealed. The jolt hadn't hurt, but had just thrown his hand out of the way. Billy screamed some more, "Hey! Who are you!? What's going on?!"

There was no reply.

Thoroughly confused, he grabbed the tray, and inspected his meal. Nothing seemed to be wrong with it, so he ate it, rather quickly. He loved the taste of food, once more, in his mouth. He hadn't eaten in a day, since the meal Rebecca had provided. Once done, he set it aside, and leaned on the wall. He wondered what he was going to do, and how he was going to do it.

He looked at the mark on his arm. The purple had gone away, and he was glad. Lowering his arm to it's side, he pressed his head against the wall, to try and relax. He had pretty much given up hope. Without a home, or a family, or even the slightest hint of a friend, it wasn't uncommon to feel just along for the ride.

He decided to see if he could hear anything. He was bored, and needed a way to occupy himself, so he pressed his ear against the wall. Listening intently for several minutes, he finally decided there was nothing there. He was just about to go back to his sulking, when he heard a faint cough, on the other side.

The cough was nothing extravagant; just a small, stifled hiccup, but it was definitely somebody else. Apparently, it wasn't supposed to have happened, because several loud "Shh!"s followed it. Billy's eyes widened, as he started screaming again.

"Hello!? Hey, I can hear you! What's going on!? Let me go!" He cried. Listening again, silence loomed over the room.

Frantically, he started beating the walls, and screaming, and swearing. He continued until his knuckles started to turn raw, and kept screaming, the whole time. Eventually, a podium-like thing rose from the floor, in the center of the room. Billy stopped hitting the wall, and turned. The pain in his fists was immense, but he ignored it.

Walking over to the podium, he noticed a large, red hand-outline on it. He quickly glanced back at the wall, but continued to inspect the podium. It seemed to be beckoning to him; something odd made him feel obliged to touch it. He wondered about what it might be, because it could very easily lop his hand off, or something of the sort.

Eventually, the human instinct of curiosity kicked in, and he moved his hand until it hovered over the podium. Billy looked at the base of it, and noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Finally, he lay his hand on top of the outline. A light shone, and the words "Keep Still" could be read above the outline.

The podium started to whir, but he kept his hand still, even through his heavy breathing. It whirred, blowing a cool air at Billy's hand, which twitched, slightly, at the feeling of it. He was starting to sweat, but the words still shone. Soon, the whirring stopped, and Billy contemplated whether or not to pull his hand back.

He looked back at the wall, and then back at the podium. A small white laser-scanner flashed, silhouetting his hand. In a top-to-bottom sweep, it scanned his palm, and shut off. The outline of the hand turned green, and the "Keep Still" light turned off.

Billy took his hand off the podium, and looked at it. It was tingling from the scanning rays, but seemed unharmed. With a loud, mechanized _Zrrrrrrrrrr!_, the podium retracted back to underneath the floor. A white inset covered it, and sealed the room, once more.

Billy looked around. _What was that?_ He turned and pressed his ear against the wall, again. He could hear typing, and a muffled sentence. All of a sudden, a beep sounded, briefly, and something behind Billy clicked. He wheeled around to stare into the eyes of a large, green lizard-like thing, who had just walked in through a large opening along the opposite wall. It showcased a large claw along it's left arm, and large, spiky scales along it's back.

For what seemed like an eternity, they stared at each other. It wanted something, and what it wanted wasn't a hug. Out of nowhere, the Hunter charged at Billy, who stepped to the side, to avoid a vertical slash of the giant, bladed hand of the beast. Billy clenched his fists, for what must have been the millionth time in his life, and punched the scaly eye of the Hunter. It stumbled, and gave him just enough time to bend down and unsheathe his boot knife.

Once he had his blade unsheathed, he immediately slashed at the staggering monster's chest. It growled, and swung at Coen's side. With a cold, shearing pain, it landed, and cut into him. He gasped, and hunched over, clutching his side. It had hit just below the ribs, and hurt like nothing ever experienced by him, before. 

He gagged, and received a punch to the face by the Hunter's un-clawed right hand. Heavily dazed, Billy still managed to stab His knife into the Hunter's shoulder. It yowled, and wheeled back, grabbing, and snatching at the knife. Looking at the opening in the wall, Billy fled towards the entrance that the Hunter had used, and dashed through it.

He managed to reached the other room, but stopped dead, as he realized that it was another plain room. He stopped. _What's the point?_ He looked at his blood-covered side. _Even if I CAN kill this thing, what, next?_

He turned, and looked back at the door. The Hunter had finally managed to retrieve the knife, after some apparent struggle. The knife lay on the floor, in a pool of blood, as the wounded beast walked towards Billy. Slowly, it stepped towards the Ex-Lieutenant. It snorted a menacing breath of air, and stopped, about six inches in front of Billy.

Silently, and still, the man stayed, embracing the adrenaline that was filling his veins, screaming at his to run. He was planning on taking his death-blow like a Marine, not a coward. He looked the Hunter in the eye, who stared right back.

Suddenly, with breakneck speed, the hunter sent a crippling jab into Billy's jaw. He stumbled, but managed to keep his footing. It throbbed, viciously, but the man stood his ground. The Hunter growled, and socked Billy in the gut, before knocking him over sideways. Billy landed on his back, and the Hunter jumped on top of his chest, growling and drooling into his face.

It had him pinned. Coen was sore from all everywheres, and was just begging, inside for death. _It's toying with me! _He thought, enraged. _This little maggot is taunting me!_

Then, from behind the Hunter, another man appeared. He said something in a foreign tongue, and the Hunter stepped off of Billy, roughly pressing him against the floor, as it did so. Billy lay there, breathing harshly. The stranger holding another needle, bent down, and pushed it into Billy's arm.

With the other arm, Billy grabbed the collar of the stranger, and pulled him towards his mashed-in face. "What the... ...is happening to me?" He hissed.

The stranger grabbed Billy's hand, and firmly held on, until his collar was released. "Don't fight us, Coen." He retorted, standing up. His dark hazel eyes seemed to tear into Billy's soul, as they looked at him.

Not soon after, the injection took hold, and the ex Marine slipped into the blankness of unconsciousness, once more.


	11. Gathering Information

**Chapter 11**

Billy awoke. His eyes were shut, and he couldn't open them. He assumed that they were taped shut, or something similar to that. He tried to remove it with his hands, but they were strapped down, too. He seemed to be in some sort of chair, with a strap on each leg, and arm, and one around his waist. He couldn't move, because of them.

He felt a heat, where his wound was. He didn't know what that was, either. The pain had subsided, and it didn't feel like it was even there, anymore. He wished that he could see what was going on, and try to make sense of things. Sadly, all he could do was wait.

Eventually, he heard a door open and close. The area around the wound had started to sweat immensely, and Billy started worrying about why that was. All of a sudden, two gloved hands were put on Billy's eyelids, and the tape was removed, causing a small grunt from the ex-marine. 

Squinting, Billy's eyes finally adjusted to the bright, white room. He was in some sort of lab, and was strapped to a revolving, barber-shop-like chair. Pointing at the wound on his chest, that the Hunter had made, was a sort of light. _Good, _he thought. _Glad it's not festering, or something..._

The man that had injected him with the second needle was the one who had removed the tape, and another spectator was also in the room. Billy did not recognize him. the man that had removed the tape inspected the wound. He pulled out yet another needle, and removed a blood sample from the area, as Coen grimaced.

The man turned to write something down on his clipboard. Billy managed to catch a glimpse of the man's name tag, which read "Gathers". 

"Gathers, eh?" Billy muttered. His voice sounded cracked, and achy. "Where am I, Mr. Gathers? And what kind of guy keeps pets like that around his... secret laboratory?" He motioned to his wound.

Gathers ignored him, and kept writing. Billy wrinkled up his nose in aggravated bewilderment. 

"Hey, I'm talking to you, dip weed!" He harshly choked out. Gathers looked up, briefly.

"Do you mind shutting your face? I'm trying to work," he spat. 

"Do you mind telling me what in blue blazes is going on, here? I'm trying to live my life!" Billy retorted. They both glared for a moment, until Gathers set his clipboard down on the desk behind him, and stood, towering over Billy, who helplessly tried to sit up in his chair.

"Do you want answers? Let me fill you in. It would be rude of me to let you into my office, totally in the dark, and curious." He calmly stated. The second observer, whose tag read "Robbel", shot a dangerous look at Gathers. Nevertheless, he carried on. "Have you noticed how you have been able to take extremely high amounts of T Virus, our beloved mistake, into your blood steam, and survive, maintaining conciseness, and sanity? We're hopeful that we might be able-"

"Gathers!" Robbel interrupted. "He said not to breath a word." He gave a look that could kill to his partner. 

Gathers sighed. "You're right. I shouldn't have said... Shut up, Coen. You have no choice in the matter." He picked up his clipboard again, and continued writing.

Silently, Billy watched them run multiple tests on the wound. He noticed that there seemed to be no contaminations at all, around the skin, even though he had been directly hit by a claw-full of virus. What they were saying was true; he really did have some sort of immunity to it. 

Eventually, they finished. Gathers and Robbel packed up their tools, and test tubes, and left through a special door, which had been apparently opened from the other side. Watching intently, Billy waited for one of them to come back, and to undo his straps. It was a comfortable chair, but he didn't want to be contained, the whole time he was there. 

He was about to yell, and to beg for them to let him out of the seat, when Gathers returned with another tray of food; this time, macaroni and cheese. He set it on a counter, next to the chair, and turned, to go towards the door. 

"Thanks. Now, just let me use my stretchy tongue, and I'll be alright," He called after the professor. Before leaving, Gathers made a little two-year-old "Nyeah nyeah nyeah" face, before exiting the room.

As the door sealed, Billy's arms were let out of their straps, mechanically. His legs were still contained, but he was able to reach over and grab the food. He ate rampantly, hardly tasting it at all. 

Finally, he finished eating, and sat back. He checked the cut, wondering what sorts of chemicals they were putting into it, and taking out of it. It seemed like a normal slice. Nobody would have guessed it was caused by a monstrous, viral beast...

* * *

Okay, it's a slow part, I know, but I'll lead up to something good, trust me. :-) Thanks for you guys' reading this, and remember that I love comments! Hehe. :-P


	12. Permission To Speak

**Chapter 12**

Waking, Billy sat, strapped by his legs, waist, and hands, once more, to a chair. Gathers, alone, was in the room, with him. he was using some sort of camera hooked up to a laptop. The pictures he was taking were all blue, with small traces of red, around the sight of the wound.

Curious, Billy watched. He had realized, already, that his captors, as expected, were not very happy to talk about what sort of things they were doing. Nonetheless, he still tried.

"Hey... Do you think I could start getting apples with my meals, from now on?" Billy inquired of the man. "Is there any way you could look into that?"

Gathers looked up from the laptop. "I'll see what i can do... Whatever for?"

"They say that an apple a day keeps the doctors away..." He remarked. Not the best joke in the world, but when trapped in a room for days, most peoples' senses of humor are a little on the verge of "stupid".

Gathers ignored his hostage, and kept working. He opened up an inbox, and started to e-mail somebody. When he realized that Billy was eagerly watching, he turned the laptop away. Billy laid his head back. He decided that he would just wait it out, and not fight them any more. What was the point of fighting so intently, for a ruined life?

After a while, Gathers' face lightened up. He made some sort of "yippee!" noise, in the back of his throat, and closed the laptop. Standing up, he turned to Billy, and started to remove the shackles.

"I've been informed that I am allowed to inform you, as to what we are doing." He started, as he undid the straps. "You are familiar with 'Umbrella'?" He asked, clumsily unfastening one of the leather arm-straps.

Billy lifted his arm, and inspected it. He was glad to be free, or free to an extent, anyways. "More or less," he answered. _Man, these guys seem to just pop up everywhere..._ He thought.

"We're somewhat of a branch off of them," Gathers continued. "When Umbrella realized that their beloved super-soldier-monsters were actually ravenous beasts, that polluted the blood-streams of humans, and turned them into undead beings, they decided to put a group of their top scientists, and professors into a branch to come up with a solution. They wanted a cure." He finished the last strap, and picked up his laptop. Motioning for Billy to follow him, he continued speaking.

"I am Charlie Gathers, one of the top 3 of the University of Cambridge, and they've decided to put me in charge of this cure." he sighed. "Trust me; this job sucks."

Billy chuckled, slightly. "You should have seen my last career; Bounty Hunting..."

Charlie ignored the remark. He obviously had much more on his mind. "I want to apologize for having to be so rough with you. I'll have you know, we never intended to kill you. We were testing the effects of the T-Virus, in your bloodstream, and we didn't think you'd come quietly."

"You never know..." Billy rubbed the large gash on his chest. "Kinda would've been easier for the both of us."

The professor led them into a room. There were several computers, each with a stereotypical "genius" professor to accompany it. Each eyed Billy, nervously, as he passed.

"We noted the numerous collisions with the T-virus, that you encountered during the train, and factory." He coughed, cursing a cold he had, and excusing himself. "We needed to make sure for ourselves, that your immune system could deter the T-virus." He stopped, and looked at Billy. "You're body _is_ immune to it."

Billy remained silent. This was obviously a good thing, but how would they try to experiment with him, in order to get a sample of it?

Gathers continued. "We don't know how, or why, or what produces it, but we do know that it is. By both direct exposure to the bloodstream, and by large lacerations, you have proven to stand, alive, against it."

They eventually came to yet another large white room. This one had a table, rather than a chair. Charles motioned for Billy to sit on it. Slowly, he clambored onto it. _Just one thing after the next. From soldier, to criminal, to survivor, to free man, to prisoner, and to cure. What a screwed up life I lead..._

* * *

Answers, finally. lol. Really didn't feel like clue ya'll in, yet, but i felt it was dragging. sorry, i need to step up, I know. lol.

Have you guys realized that I start nearly every chapter with "he awoke"? lol. Oops... Anyways, I'll update, later. Thanks for reading!


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